


If you're going to San Francisco...

by NuMo



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, PWP, Tumblr Pornathon 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 15:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuMo/pseuds/NuMo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here's my entry to this wonderful thing called Pornathon 2012.</p><p>Be warned: This is smut. Explicit. Sexytimes between sexy ladies. No triggers, though, just plain, vanilla, sunlit smut in San Francisco. Oh, uh, and: Bering and Wells, of course. It's set after the episode "For The Team".</p><p>Inspired by <a href="http://helenastacie.tumblr.com/post/38175601794">this wonderful gifset of helenastacie</a>, and dedicated to <a href="scifi-geeky-lass.tumblr.com/">scifi-geeky-lass</a> because she asked for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If you're going to San Francisco...

"Dude, if this isn't thegreatest ping we ever had, I honestly don't know," Claudia said, shifting from foot to foot in the apartment house's tiny lift car. "I mean, jeez, San Francisco is awesome all by its groovy self, but going there to hunt a frakkin' Hippie artefact? Awesome with awesome sauce!"  
  
"It is kinda cool, isn't it?" Myka grinned back at the young redhead, then turned around when the lift's door opened. "Well, here we are then."  
  
Even considering the high 'weird' threshold of artifacts, this _was_ a strange one, Myka thought, trying to keep from blushing. It wasn't clear yet just what the artifact was, only that it seemed to free people from just about any inhibition they might feel, which, seeing as this was a retirement home, resulted in situations that were… interesting, to say the least. They had managed to narrow it down to 'something in apartment 35B', because of the neighbors' complaints which had caused the ping.  
  
So of course Artie had decided to send level-headed Myka, and then he'd shocked them all by partnering her with still-in-training Claudia, most of all Pete. 'It's not as if I had any inhibitions to begin with', he'd tried to argue; and while Myka clearly had to concede that point, the idea of going on another retrieval mission with Claudia had been just too appealing to take his side in the end. She'd make it up to him; part of her mind was already trying to decide what to bring him.  
  
Which was probably why she didn't notice that the door was already ajar, nor stopped Claudia from entering the apartment first.  
  
"Uh, erm… Myka?" The tone of Claudia's voice finally managed to pull all of Myka's neurons into line. Her eyes followed Claudia's pointing finger, and, landing on its target, widened in shock. "Seems we've come second," the trainee agent said, swallowing hard.  
  
"To the apartment and to the artifact," Myka added, her own throat suddenly dry. There was no mistaking the view in front of them – H.G. Wells, stark mother-naked but for the locket's necklace around her neck, walking towards and opening the apartment's fridge, then contemplating the merits of its contents. The woman seemed completely oblivious to the audience to, and completely at ease with her nakedness. There was no way, _no way_ , that this was normal behavior for a Victorian-age woman, right? Okay, so 'normal' wasn’t exactly the adjective to describe H.G. Wells, but then again, neither was 'stark mother-naked', at least extrapolating from their previous exchanges, flirty as they had been.  
  
Myka was just considering the best way to leave undetected when the Englishwoman straightened and looked over the fridge's door towards the two agents. "Oh, hello there, darlings – fancy meeting you here," she crooned, which nailed it – no one, not even the personal-space-invading, innuendo-spouting, roamy-eyed H.G. Wells, could ever be this… nonchalant about such a situation without outside influence.  
  
Myka ran a nervous tongue across her lip, trying to decide how best to continue. "Um… so… you, um… you heard of the ping?"  
  
"Oh is that what you call it these days?" Helena shook her hair back over one shoulder and peered into the fridge once more. "Good grief, I'm famished. Would you believe how empty this fridge is?"  
  
"Well, apparently the apartment's tenant decided it would be fun to throw his foodstuffs at people. From his window," Myka added.  
  
"Um, guys, not that I want to interrupt the briefing," Claudia began, then cleared her throat, "and not that I'm not happy to see my life-saver again, but, you know, H.G., no offense and all, but I'm kinda seeing _way_ too much of you for my personal comfort here?"  
  
"Oh, come now darling," Helena said, cocking an eyebrow, "surely you're not daunted by a bit of nudity?"  
  
"Uh…"

Myka had never seen Claudia blush so furiously. For some reason, feeling protective of the younger woman helped her keep her own embarrassment at bay, though. "H.G.," she began, then cleared her own throat when the two syllables came out somewhat… husky. "Could you maybe… you know… um, cover up a little?"  
  
"Ah, my sweet Myka," the Englishwoman said with what could only be called a cheeky smile and covering her breasts with a slender arm, "I never could deny you anything. Would this appease you, Miss Donovan?"  
  
Myka couldn't help noticing how incongruous it seemed that Helena played with a strand of her hair while waiting for her answer. She could also not overlook how the cold emanating from the fridge had constricted Helena's nipples into the tiniest buds she remembered ever seeing, nor how the inside of Helena's arm grazed them – she shivered slightly at realizing just how sensuous that must-  
  
"Oh. My. God," she said suddenly. "Out. Claudia, out. Now." She turned around and grabbed the younger agent's shoulders, turning her around and pushing her towards the door.  
  
"What? What?! Myka, what-"  
  
"Whatever this artifact is doing, it's affecting me, too, I think," Myka said as quickly as she could, "and we need someone to keep their head. So we need you to get out of here and… and…" she frowned, chewing on her lip.  
  
"Okay, um, Myka, I'll… um, I'll – right! I'll call you, yes? I'll go outside and call you and you stay and look for the artifact and once you've found it, you tell me and I'll be ready with the bag."  
  
"Brilliant!" Myka exclaimed, then frowned at herself. "Crap, Claud, this is…"  
  
"I'm on it," Claudia said, pulling the door close behind her. A fraction of a second later, Myka's phone rang.  
  
"Claud?"  
  
"Who else, dude?" At least Claudia didn't sound affected, Myka thought, still mortified by the whine her own voice had been.  
  
"So, um… alright, uh, hold on while I go looking for the artifact," Myka said, clinging to her mobile like to a lifeline. She turned and-  
  
collided with five foot seven inches of naked Englishwoman. "I suppose you were referring to this," Helena said, not moving a millimeter from where she stood pressed against Myka (who couldn't help noticing that, yes indeed, those nipples were hard as pebbles).  
  
The sensation all but distracted Myka from noticing the palm-sized enamel box Helena was dangling at eye-height. "Oh, uh…" she flinched again when the sight finally impacted, "um, yes, probably – holy crap, Helena, why are you touching it without protection, for heaven's sake?"  
  
"Well, this certainly explains things," Claudia's voice came through the phone's speaker. "You got it, then?"  
  
"Only one way to find out," Myka answered, fumbling behind her for the doorknob, eyes still riveted to the box.  
  
"Right, bag's ready, ladies," she heard Claudia's reply. It was the work of a few short moments to open the door, focus on the bag, insert, duck and turn to see the residue of crackling sparks. "Bingo, I'd say," Claudia remarked. "Now let's get H.G.'s clothes and-"  
  
"But why on _Earth_ , young lady, would I want to get dressed?" Helena sang dreamily from behind Myka. "This feels perfectly fine, and even more liberating than wearing trousers, you know."  
  
Myka and Claudia exchanged a look. "Ri-i-i-ight," Claudia drew the word out like a streak of bubble gum. "I'll go call Artie and let you know what this is and why it didn't stop affecting you when we bagged it."  
  
"Right," Myka said, nodding maybe a little too vigorously. "Right, you do that, and I… ah…"  
  
"You keep an eye on Lady Godiva here," Claudia smirked with a wink.  
  
"Right." The door clicked shut, and suddenly a hand sneaked around Myka's midriff.  
  
"Splendid," a voice too sultry to be allowed all but purred into Myka's ear, then Myka felt a tongue trace a wet trail on the shell.  
  
"Helenawhatareyoudoing?" she squealed, shuddering when the caress seemed to continue straight down between her legs – which it didn't, there was no way, she was still clothed after all, but it distinctly felt like _oh my God she's nuzzling my neck._  
  
"Enjoying your presence, darling, and the absence of young Miss Donovan." Helena's hand left Myka's stomach and traveled south to the hem of Myka's shirt.  
  
Then Myka's phone beeped with a text message.  
  
"'Hashish box from Christiania, Denmark'," she read, "'affects everyone in its presence, no physical touch required. Effects: loss of inhibition, amplification of current mood. Effects increase with prolonged exposure and abate by themselves after an individual amount of time. Downside: Extreme loss of inhibitions may lead to endangering self or others.'"  
  
"That sounds delightful, does it not?" Helena hummed, taking an impossible step closer – Myka would swear she felt her from shoulder to toe.  
  
"What, that it can lead to endangering people? How long have you been here, anyway?" Myka tried. She really did. But then she had been in the artifact's presence too, hadn't she? And she'd been pretty relaxed when she'd entered the apartment, and… and somehow she found it so difficult to concentrate on anything when Helena was so close and so… well, naked.  
  
"Oh, honestly, darling," Helena tutted, "surely you realize as well as I do that the artifact is quite harmless. I just hope the effects will not dissipate too quickly," she hummed again as her hand resumed its quest for Myka's skin.  
  
"Claudia," Myka whispered in a last attempt at stopping the seemingly inevitable.  
  
"Is probably quite aware of what will happen in a matter of moments, judging by her latest message," Helena smirked and pointed.  
  
"'I'm heading back to the hotel',"" Myka read, "you have yourself some hopefully-not-too-dopey fun, and don't worry, I'll cover for you."  
  
"It would seem that Miss Donovan has lost her inhibition to take charge," Helena chuckled. Her fingers slipped beneath the fabric of Myka's shirt and ran across the planes and curves, light as butterflies. Myka shuddered.  
  
"Helena-" her words were cut short when Helena pushed her forwards, pressing her against the door.  
  
"I do look forward to spending a bit of time with you, Agent Bering." Helena's voice was, once more, smooth dark honey in Myka's ear. And her tongue was, once more, mapping a trail of liquid, cool fire, this time down the length of Myka's neck. Helena's hand, trapped between the door and Myka's stomach, still found room to move, pressing, smoothing, even grazing everything in reach. "Don't you?" And with an assertive pull, Helena's hand had Myka turn around to face her.  
  
Myka stared into dilated but clear brown eyes. Saw unimpeded desire and thrilled delight, saw endless possibilities and unreserved invitation, and wondered if the effects the artifact had had on the other woman could possibly have faded by now. "Helena, do you… um, how do you feel?"  
  
"If by that you mean whether I feel afflicted still," Helena answered, eyes fixed on – _my pulse point_ , Myka suddenly realized, the notion almost tuning out Helena's next words, "I do not think so, and I have been in its presence for far longer than you have. But the experience was… heartening, in a way." Her eyes came up to meet Myka's, holding something new: A question.  
  
There was a naked woman in her arms ( _when did that happen? When did I move my arms to her waist? Goddamnit, Bering!_ ), all but _begging_ her-  
  
 _Oh what the hell._  
  
Helena's wordless question called for a wordless answer, and it was almost too easy to find one. When Myka's lips met Helena's, the Englishwoman made a soft sound at the back of her throat, a mixture between a sigh and what sounded suspiciously like a sob, but her hands, equally wordlessly, added their vote when they cupped Myka's jaw and pulled her close.  
  
Helena G. Wells' lips felt… exquisite, possible artifact effects or no. Full, and pliant, and _God was she a good kisser_ – Myka fought a whimper when Helena began nibbling at her lower lip, tugging and teasing with her lips alone. And just when Myka thought she might go crazy from its absence, she felt a tongue dart out and across, ever so lightly, gone as soon as it had arrived. This time, she couldn't hold back the soft keening it tore from her throat.  
  
Helena responded by sliding one hand down and back until it cradled Myka's neck, running the other along the neckline of Myka's shirt, fingernails lightly grazing each inch of skin they encountered. Myka was glad about the door at her back when she felt a flick of Helena's tongue at the corner of her mouth, another closer to the center, and then a long, slow, _wet_ caress all across her lower lip.  
  
And still Helena didn't deepen the kiss, didn't push – _well up here at least_ , Myka thought; _she's damn well pressing into me everywhere else, isn't she._ Then again, Myka's own hands, still quite without volition, were adding some pressure of their own, weren't they – one across a shoulder blade, one around a waist? Helena was molding herself into the embrace, and still, still, the kiss was all but closed-mouthed and yet so very, very-  
  
 _What on Earth is she waiting for?_  
  
 _You, Bering. She’s waiting for you._  
  
So the next time Myka felt the darting tongue, she tried to capture it. She felt Helena's lips curl upwards, felt an amused breath leave Helena's nostrils and caress her cheek, felt Helena's whole body shift as the Englishwoman leaned back and broke the kiss.  
  
"What-" But there was a finger on her lips, quite cool in contrast to what they had touched moments before.  
  
"Relocation would seem warranted, don't you think?" Helena whispered huskily. She widened the distance between them by another step, and Myka indulged in a long moment of appraisal.  
  
Helena's almost black hair had never matched the color of her eyes so well, she thought. Her lips were slightly parted, slightly engorged, slightly quirking when Helena noticed Myka's attention, but Myka's eyes were already moving on, wandering across a column of a neck, a hint of ribs covered by creamy skin, the swell of two perfectly shaped breasts, and curves of a stomach that begged for an easel, pen and paper.  
  
A hip jutted when Helena moved from one foot to another, drawing attention to endless, slender legs and the neatly trimmed triangle at their apex. Blushing at the rush of arousal which shot through her at the sight, Myka raised her eyes to meet Helena's gaze.  
  
"I do hope you approve of what you see," the Englishwoman said, one corner of her mouth rising in a truly wicked smirk.  
  
Unable to think of any answer, Myka found herself running her tongue across her lower lip, tracing the path Helena's tongue had taken only seconds ago.  
  
Helena threw her head back and laughed delightedly. "Oh, my darling Myka – you _are_ delectable."  
  
"You're not so bad yourself," Myka gave back, complete with a crooked smile of her own. No, she did not feel whammied. And she didn't think Helena did, either. Somehow, artifact or no, this seemed the obvious way forward when presented with naked H.G. Wells – _God, she's_ …  
  
Moving away?  
  
"Helena, we can't _possibly_ -"  
  
Helena laughed again, the sound trailing behind her like a veil. "I shall reimburse him for the trouble of changing his sheets, darling, never worry." She stopped in the doorway and looked over her shoulder. "Whatever are you standing there for?"  
  
The bedroom was tidy, at least. Myka wondered about her earlier thoughts, though, when she found Helena going through the wardrobe without a care in the world.  
  
"Helena, you-"  
  
"Darling, I assure you I am only looking for a sheet. And I severely doubt that there is more than one artifact in this apartment." And the view of Helena bending down to retrieve said bit of fabric was… Myka swallowed. The sun was falling straight through the bedroom window, and made it quite, quite clear how… uh, _delectable_ Helena found the situation. Myka found herself almost sighing with disappointment when the other woman straightened and turned and held the sheet aloft triumphantly.  
  
Changing the sheet was a work of moments, only impeded by Myka's ever-growing awareness of Helena's nearness, nakedness, gracefulness. Her fingers had never been so clumsy, and she only hoped they would regain their deftness when faced with different tasks than tucking cotton into place.  
  
"Now, darling," Helena turned towards Myka when they were done, "I think it is your turn." She quickly put her hand over Myka's when the younger woman grasped the hem of her shirt. "Let me, please," she whispered.  
  
Myka swallowed, dropped her hands, and nodded. Sunlight warmed her back and turned the dust they had disturbed into a whirlwind of golden motes. Helena moved through it as if she were of its very nature, and it greeted her by kissing gleaming highlights into her hair, warm, vibrant fire into her eyes, and a sheen of flawless ancient ivory onto her skin.  
  
Her fingers were cool, though, when they dived beneath the fabric of Myka's shirt, pushing upwards in a smooth, fluid motion. It felt like a perfectly choreographed dancing move when Myka raised her arms just in time for Helena to slip the shirt across. It landed forgotten at their feet – Helena's eyes caressed every inch of what she had just uncovered, and Myka couldn't tear her gaze away from the adoration she saw in them.  
  
And here she wore only her most utilitarian white bra – who would have thought things would end like this, after all. Its plainness didn't seem to put off Helena in the slightest, though; her fingers were already trailing down the length of one strap, then changed course when they reached the cup, brushing along the outside of Myka's breast almost reverently.  
  
Myka couldn't decide whether it was that touch or the look in Helena's eyes that had her skin break out in goose bumps. Then Helena licked her lips unconsciously, and it was Myka's turn to let go of a laugh. Helena didn't join her, however – if at all possible, the look in her eyes deepened even more, and her hand came up to cup the back of Myka's head and pull her down for another kiss, and this one, _this one_ was so different from the one they had shared in the tiny hall that that one seemed almost chaste by comparison.  
  
Myka's mouth was still open from laughing, and Helena's tongue was quick to make use of that advantage, finding the inside of Myka's upper lip and running along the row of teeth. Caught short, it took Myka a moment to respond in kind, but then respond she did, trailing the soft wetness and paying a visit of her own to Helena's lips that had the other woman humming delightedly.  
  
Nimble fingers busied themselves at Myka's back and her bra went the way of her shirt within seconds. Myka gasped into Helena's mouth when hardened nipples grazed the underside of her breasts. Helena noticed and repeated the motion, lips curling into a knowing smile underneath Myka's. Then she rose to her toes, hands on Myka's hips for balance, and when nipple touched nipple, the sound emanating from Myka's throat was, honestly, more of a growl than anything else.  
  
"Helena…" She felt torn between wishing to feel that exquisite caress for longer, or pressing in to feel more of that smooth, smooth skin. Then fingers raked across her back, one long motion from belt to shoulder, and buried themselves in her hair once more.  
  
Their third kiss was searing, searing as the sun on Myka's back, searing as the trails Helena's fingers, Helena's mouth, Helena's _sounds_ blazed towards Myka's sex. Myka was dimly aware of her own moans, caught by Helena's oh so mobile lips, welcomed by Helena's oh so clever tongue, stoked by Helena's oh so naked body pressing into her, hip bone at almost the right height to-  
  
Her fingers flew to her belt buckle, encountered Helena's, made, with their help, quick work of belt and button and zip while her feet kicked off their boots. Pushing her jeans down her legs meant breaking their kiss, but that in turn meant a bit of oxygen, which was a good thing, right? And it meant finding herself at eye-level with Helena's sex, and suddenly being immensely grateful for that bit of oxygen she had just gotten hold of. And then fortunate, reliable instinct made Myka take another breath, and the scent of Helena's arousal filled her nose, and suddenly she couldn't get out of the rest of her clothes quick enough, because she wanted, she wanted, oh how she wanted to-  
  
Myka practically tackled Helena onto the bed as soon as her legs were free, winning another delighted laugh and a pair of jauntily raised eyebrows. She caught Helena's mouth again before the other woman could say anything, though, and gave her hands free reign, too, on shoulders, breasts, hips, thighs, until she was quite satisfied that the only thing leaving Helena's mouth for the now would be moans instead of teasing.  
  
Then Helena pushed up her leg, and Myka realized that, one, this was a _good_ thing and, two, she was at least as wet as she had just seen that Helena was. There was an honestly _wicked_ twist to Helena's lips when she raised her thigh even further, a twist that totally called for a bit of escalation on Myka's part. So, with only the slightest pang of regret, she left Helena's kiss-swollen and panting mouth behind in search of a better spot, and found it in the hollow at the base of Helena's throat, and in the tendons framing it. Flicking her tongue over them had Helena's hips jerk upwards and Myka's lips twist in a satisfied smirk of her own. When Helena threw her head to one side, Myka followed the emerging strand of tendon towards the other woman's ear, grazing the tender skin with her teeth and delighting in yet another involuntary thrust of Helena's hips.  
  
Helena all but ground into Myka when the younger woman's tongue found her earlobe and the pearl pendant dangling from it, playing with both until Helena's breath was heavy in her ear and the Englishwoman started to actually buck.  
  
"Oh no, Miss Wells," Myka murmured, pulling back from the ear a little, "now we can't have that, can we."  
  
Helena growled, a surprisingly menacing sound, and shifted, too sudden for Myka to prevent landing on her back with her hands being held above her head and a welcome weight pinning down her hips. "Well now, Agent Bering," the older woman purred, "let us see, then, what we _can_ have, shall we?"  
  
And she straightened and moved forwards, all but thrusting her breasts into Myka's face – and ever since she had seen them, Myka had _wanted_ this. Her mouth closed around one nipple, tongue, lips, teeth moving on and around it until it stood achingly erect and Helena's hips were resuming their rocking motions atop Myka's mons. When Myka let go of the bud with a final nip of her teeth, she caught sight of the fingers of Helena's free hand playing with the other nipple, and barely suppressed the keening that started at the back of her throat. She darted forward quickly and managed to catch both nipple _and_ finger, and God, the sensation of Helena running the tip of her finger along Myka's lips, of feeling Helena twist her nipple underneath Myka's tongue, had Myka buck upwards just as hungrily as Helena bore down on her.  
  
Then Helena's finger twirled a last time across Myka's tongue and vanished, only to reappear on Myka's nipple next. Myka's eyes fluttered close as Helena shifted above her, sliding her hips down Myka's thighs, leaving a trace of her arousal. Then strands of hair tickled feather-light across Myka's breasts, and a moment later, Helena's tongue flicked over Myka's left nipple while her fingers brushed the right one, catching it between thumb and palm in a fair imitation of a second set of lips.  
  
"God…" Myka threw her head to the side, realizing too late that the movement only served to bare her neck to Helena's mouth, and, true enough, a moment later she could feel those clever, insistent lips latch onto the tender skin above her collarbone in a way that would surely leave a mark but was way too good to be cut short. So much so, in fact, that she barely noticed Helena's hand leaving her breast until it started to trail a lazy path along the inside of her thigh, sliding down and up, towards a regrettably unavailable center – Helena's legs were still bracketing Myka's, there was no room to open up, however much Myka ached to do so. So when that finger stopped inches from where Myka wanted it to go, her hips surged from the bed in a futile attempt to meet it, and Helena hummed appreciatively.  
  
Myka was fully ready to extricate herself by any means possible (it wasn't as if Helena's hold would stop a trained government agent, after all) when she felt Helena shift yet again. Helena's hand let go of Myka's in order to catch Helena's weight as she moved down Myka's body, paying very thorough attention on Myka's breast along the way. Myka tried to leave her hands where they were - it was nice to be fully at the receiving end - but when Helena started to kiss her way down Myka's stomach, Myka couldn't help burying her hands in that ebony mane and urging Helena further down, no matter if that caused another hum of amusement.  
  
She felt Helena's hands on the inside of her thighs, one left, one right; felt the slight push, felt Helena move her weight yet again as Myka opened for her. Myka let her hands drop to her hips and opened her eyes to take in the sight of Helena, kneeling, framed by Myka's legs. The older woman seemed completely mesmerized by the sight in front of her, to judge by the way her mouth opened ever so slightly, the way her pupils dilated until only the black was showing. Stunned and dazzled with desire, and haloed by the sunlight still falling through the window, Helena had never looked more beautiful to Myka.  
  
Then Helena exhaled a long, anticipatory breath and dove down, and Myka's eyes snapped shut when Helena's mouth found the spot where Myka's thigh met her hip, tongue roaming the sensitive skin until Myka had to clench her fists into the sheet to keep from pushing Helena, again, to where she wanted her. She felt Helena's hands run along her thighs, and almost crooned when they came to rest on top of her hips and Helena's mouth closed in on Myka's wet, pulsing, needing center.  
  
The first touch of Helena's tongue was slightly off to one side, and made Myka realize how incredibly, _impossibly_ wet she'd become. There was another low hum of appreciation, though, and another long, loving lick on the other side, and then Helena's tongue dove in for real, and the sheer _expectedness_ of it wrenched a groan from Myka's throat and her back off the sheets.  
  
Helena seemed to take some perverse form of pleasure in taking Myka as close as possible to the brink and then turning her attentions to more innocent areas until Myka was all but begging her to go on. Slender fingers joined that silver tongue, moving across Myka's sex until they were slick with her arousal, fluttering across her clit until she keened, dipping inside her and withdrawing again, erratic and unpredictable like a summer's breeze. Helena's shoulders pushed into Myka's thighs and she tried to open them yet further, lifting her knees off the sheets and pulling them towards her, resulting in another contented croon that hummed against her clit and made her flinch with the sudden intensity. Then Helena's mouth withdrew, and the breath of her laughter tickled Myka's stomach, and Myka felt _that_ close to begging-  
  
And then two fingers all but slammed into her, plunging and pumping impossibly deeply – Helena's hands surely were smaller than this? With a truly gargantuan effort, Myka lifted her head to look down. What she saw almost made her lose herself completely – Helena was _looking up at her_ , open and wanton seductiveness in her eyes, and those _were_ her fingers Myka felt moving, curling, pressing inside her, there was no doubt of that. Helena lowered her head just a little, lowered her eyelids just a little, and curled her lips into the most dangerous smile Myka had ever seen. Then her thumb flicked across Myka's clit and Myka didn't see anything but stars anymore.  
  



End file.
